A Whisper of Night

22.1 || ASTNORDEN ?

"...then I bid you stand, as liege subjects to your rightful Queen."

Lady Arma Ostrey and Lord Daemon Steridge, the last of Astna's subjects to swear fealty to her, stood. Thirteen-thousand infantry, two-thousand cavalry, and five-hundred ships. A month ago, those numbers would've been more than Astna would've dared hope for.

Ostrey and Steridge had arrived only a few hours ago to swear allegience to Astna. They had sailed all the way from Valchtnalla, setting out a week prior to reach the border of Norrayn.

And although Astna was glad for their men, she now feared for Valchtnalla. What of Minister Bartling, of the men who still hated her? With Minister Foerling dead and Jala at her side, she received next to no news on the state of her home.

"Go and rest," she told Ostrey and Steridge, smiling as serenely as she could. "I know it is a long way from Valchtnalla to Norrayn. We set out in only a few hours."

Leaving and attacking by night had become her trademark, as Ellac had put it a few days ago. She supposed it did suit her, the heir to the Kingdom of Night, to strike with the stars and moon at her back.

The hall began emptying, men (and a few women) chattering as they headed to the dining hall or their bedrooms. Astna had opened the reception to all her subjects, and her soldiers had taken the opportunity to see a royal proceeding more than eagerly.

She was currently in Topira City, at the very outskirts of Stovasen Province. They had left Old Skeynheld a few days ago, after she had decided that there was nothing worth staying for. Besides, the former capital was too far from Norrayn, the province she had yet to conquer.

Just Norrayn. Just one more piece of land...

...and then I'll be Queen. Queen of my father's lands, queen of my ancestors' home.

Her heart sped up, pounded fiercely against her chest.

"Astna?" came a voice.

She turned.

Ellac was walking up to her. At his side strode a figure cloaked in dark purple, a figure -

Astna tensed.

"May I present to you Priest Fyron of the Twelve Valigen?"

She swallowed. Queen you shall be when you come back, yes. Queen of dust and defeat, queen of death and destruction....

"Greetings," she managed, rising hastily and descending the dais. Ellac gave her an uncertain glance, then backed away. "Forgive me, Your Honor. Had I known you were here, I would've - "

Priest Fyron held up a hand. He wore five twelve-pointed stars on the left side of his robe, embroidered directly over his heart. "It is fine," he said, his voice deep and mellow. "I was tending to my prayers earlier. Besides, I wished to converse with you, away from all the...hubbub...of your men."

She nodded, trying to gauge his thoughts. "Very well. Do you wish to walk...outside?"

"If that is what you desire."

She bit back her annoyance. I was asking for your opinion! Still, she nodded. "The gardens outside the castle are very nice."

They headed towards the exit, Astna walking to the Priest's left. She couldn't help but feel uneasy, almost unsettled, by the Priest's smooth gliding walk, by his unnatural silence. He seemed so at ease with his surroundings, so unlike Astna's churning mind and furtive glances. And she despised him for it.

The sun was beginning to set, staining the skies a deep red. Astna was forcibly reminded of Rasla's wings as they walked - the hydra had been the color of wine-soaked silk, her eyes like black diamonds and her scales like stars....